


What Morning Brings

by redpetaledfury



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Consent is Sexy, Dominance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Free Will, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light BDSM, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot, Sadism, Service Submission, Submission, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpetaledfury/pseuds/redpetaledfury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you’re willing to die… for a pile of cockroaches. Why?"<br/>“Because Dad was right. They are better than us.”<br/>“They are <em>broken. Flawed. Abortions</em>.”<br/>“Damn right they’re flawed,” said Gabriel. “But a lot of ‘em try. To do better. To forgive.”</p>
<p>In the wake of his brother's death, Lucifer explores the possibility that some humans are worth saving. But it won't be roses and candy for his test subject.</p>
<p>Dee has lived all her life as a servant of the gods. When she loses that purpose, she must evolve -- for the sake of humanity.</p>
<p>This work takes place directly after "Hammer of the Gods."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in quite a while. As such, I acknowledge that it might be crappy. I don't care. The point for me is to get the words out, to practice writing, and the good stuff will come with time.
> 
> That said, if you do enjoy, kudos are appreciated.
> 
> *Please note: due to a glitch, one guest somehow left me 95 kudos instead of one. So when you see that number, subtract 94. I've contacted AO3 support but they can't reset it, so we're stuck with the faulty number for now. Normally I'm all for kudos, but I'd rather come by them honestly!

“And don’t forget… you learned all your tricks from me, little brother.”

~~~

Lucifer had killed his share of angels, in times past and more recently since his release. He was no stranger to the light that poured out of them. The gasping. The pleading in their eyes. But he didn’t love them the way he had loved Gabriel.

If only his brother hadn’t forced his hand.

Devastated, he looked for answers in the surrounding carnage. Was it really all worth it? Worth casting his brother out of existence, never to brighten his presence again? Never to make him laugh… But there was no stopping armageddon. This was his purpose. And this -- this was justice. This was purification. No more false gods. He turned to go.

And then he heard the smallest of noises from the hallway outside. Someone was speaking.

Who dared -- ?

He strode out the door to find whatever pathetic would-be god had slipped his grasp and then been fool enough to bring itself back to the Morningstar’s attention.

In the middle of the hallway next to the mangled corpse of one of those he had slaughtered, there knelt a young woman. She was chanting. A lit candle stood beside her, and a bowl of water with a damp cloth. Oblivious to the danger, she was washing the body of her god.

Lucifer was thoroughly annoyed. He was also exhausted. As he studied the human before him, his brother’s words echoed in his head. _Damn right they’re flawed… but a lot of ‘em try_. This feeling that he was missing something, that he had been out of the game too long, bothered him. Gabriel wasn’t easily hoodwinked. What could possibly have convinced him that these mistakes deserved to live alongside their Father’s more glorious creations?

He sighed. The young woman looked up... and their eyes met.

Like a predator he moved, closing in for the kill. She dropped the cloth and scampered back, clearly afraid but no match for his speed. He was almost upon her. And then… just when another human would have turned to run, the young woman did something else. Something unexpected.

She dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead to the ground.

Pausing, Lucifer regarded her curiously. She was going to die. No logical creature could be in doubt of that, not when considering the bloodbath that surrounded her. Why did she not run? Rolling his eyes, he circled the prone form. He could see now with his tired vessel’s sight that she wasn’t even shaking. Strange. Human physical reaction was usually so easy to predict. This one clearly possessed some level of suicidal courage.

_All right little brother_ , he thought. _If you were right, it shouldn’t be too hard to prove_.

“So you’ve come to retrieve your false god,” he said. “That’s brave of you, all things considered. What’s your name, little ape?”

She spoke into the floor. “Dee, my lord.” Odd, that her voice did not shake. He was still covered in the blood of her master.

“Dee. And you served this pathetic waste of space?” Lucifer kicked the body disdainfully. No reaction from her. Very curious.

“I served this one, yes. I was made to serve.”

“Made to serve… interesting.” Steps echoed on the wet floor as he continued walking around her, considering. “You know, Dee, servant of what’s-his-face here, I too was made to serve.” Another step. And another. She was silent. “Some would say that didn’t turn out too well. What do you think?”

There, a reaction: her breathing picked up. He nudged her with a foot. “I asked you a question.”

“I…” The young woman swallowed. “I think… I think you made the choice that suited you.”

“Well _that’s_ a non-answer if ever I heard one.” Lucifer clicked his tongue regretfully and stopped in front of her. “Disappointing. Still.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “I think I’ll take you with me.  You’d be surprised at how hard it is to find a human that doesn’t shit itself when I’m around. Besides,” he said -- and here he crouched down, grasping her chin so that he could look her in the eyes -- “I’ll probably kill you in the morning.”

She met his gaze. Her forehead was smeared with blood from touching the floor, and he took in this feature for a moment, wondering whether it made her seem even more pathetic or just the slightest bit noble. Her eyes were blue-grey and full of resignation. He smiled at her, and that resignation faltered -- just a smidge. Good.

Thinly-clad shoulder grasped in his weathered hand, they departed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer finds out some interesting things about his new toy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Dee's abilities seem confusing, just keep reading.

Meg was disturbed. Her Father had returned from exterminating those puffed-up pagans, normally something to be celebrated, but the rest of this particular night was not going according to plan. First, there was the heaviness of his shoulders when he returned. Clearly this had taken some unexpected toll on him. The amount of blood soaking his skin and his clothing was normal, and she loved him the more for it -- nothing excites a demon quite like blood -- but when she offered to bathe him, he had refused her. “Dee will do it,” he said. He seemed distracted.

She had to check her ears, because for a second she thought he said Dean. But no. Dee. Who the fuck was Dee? Her gaze turned to the quiet human beside him.

Noticing her annoyance, Lucifer chided her gently. “Meg, this human will be attending me for now. I know you do so love our time together,” he said, reaching out to stroke her hair. She calmed under his touch. “But I need you focused on other things. Like the Winchesters.”

“Of course,” she said obediently.

“An hour ago they were near Muncie, Indiana. Find out where they went.” With a gentle push, he dismissed her.

Sparing one more glance at the creature by his side, she bowed her head and left the room.

“This vessel is wearing thin,” said the archangel. He was not facing her, but Dee knew his attention was on her nonetheless. They were in an ornately-decorated room, large and full of fine furniture, with a four-poster canopied bed in the corner and all the trappings of expensive taste. In the center stood a white claw-footed porcelain bathtub, which, according to the wisps of steam rising from it, had just been filled with hot water in anticipation of Lucifer’s return. He made his way over to it, shedding clothes with every step. She averted her eyes, but she could tell -- his skin was blistered, rubbed raw from trying to hold back the power inside. “What I wouldn’t give,” he groaned, lowering himself into the bath, “for fresher meat.” Laying back his head, he sighed.

She could tell his vessel needed sleep, desperately. But angels don’t sleep. Dee knew this. She also knew how she could help. At least… how she might help, if it worked the same way. She had no experience with angels, let alone an angel possessing a vessel too weak to contain it.

But she knew gods. How different could it be?

There was the other question of what her obligations were. She had served the gods since she was a small child. Several gods, in fact -- good servants were traded as favors in their never-ending disputes. She had been around the world a time or two, had seen much to jade her to its ways and accustom her to its cruelties. And she was loyal to a fault.

At least, she had been -- until her previous master had been fatally impaled by a fist through the chest. Now, she wasn't sure what she was.

It’s not that she was lacking a will of her own. There had been a time in her life when she had questioned her purpose, had contemplated a different path, but… those questions had been resolved long ago. She had learned her duties well since then.

After all, she was made to serve. Quite literally.

Approaching on quiet feet, she whispered into her hands and lay them on the crown of his head. It was a spell to ease pain. She needed no ingredients; she herself was the ingredient.

For a few seconds, she thought it was working. The tension in his body bled away. He gave a satisfied sigh and slumped into the bath just a little further.

Then his eyes snapped open, and she found herself flying across the room.

She hit the wall with a cry that was cut off as the wind left her. A shadow darkened her sight and she was hauled up by her throat and pinned against the wallpaper. For several long moments, Lucifer stared at her. Dee could tell he was enraged -- enraged, and dripping water onto the carpet. She struggled to breathe. Maybe he would kill her now.

Right, she thought. She was not his servant -- she should not have presumed. Stupid, so stupid.

With a noise of exasperation, he released her. She landed in a crumpled heap. Instinct took over and she found herself again in that position from which she had initially been questioned: on her knees, forehead to the floor. A pose of ultimate submission.

There was a difference though. This time, she was actually afraid. In the bloodstained hallway where she had first encountered him, death had been a strong possibility. But death was an old friend to her. Now she wondered: what other acts might he visit upon her?

Lucifer stood over her. “What,” he fumed, “did you do to me?”

Dee trembled as she spoke. “I’m sorry, please, I was trying to help.” She tried to find the air she needed. “It’s a spell, it’s supposed to take away pain, I swear I didn’t know it would hurt you, please, I didn’t know.” Gods sometimes liked it when you pleaded with them. As adept as she was at concealing her fear, she was beginning to suspect that her death would not be as quick as she had hoped. It might be advantageous to act as terrified as she actually was for a change.

“It didn’t hurt, it -- Wait, you were trying to _help_ me?” He looked at her with unbelieving eyes, momentarily distracted by this piece of information. When he had said that she would be attending him, he didn’t realize she would acquiesce to the idea so obligingly. After all, he had killed her master. Was she not angry? What was _wrong_ with this vermin?

“I’m -- I’m sorry,” she stammered, eyes to the floor. “I should have asked first.”

Maybe she was happy that he had destroyed her god? No, she had been holding a vigil when he found her… this made no sense.

“So… let me get this straight. You’re _not_ upset that I killed that guy you were mooning over in the hallway?”

Of course he would think so. He didn’t know her world or her upbringing, didn’t realize that for someone like her, gods came and went. The point was to serve.

“No, my lord.”

He let it go. He would untie that knot later. But that spell -- ? That was something else. For a moment, his fatigue had been gone. He had not felt that way since first possessing his vessel, when it was still new. Incredible.

He had thought to spend a few hours observing this creature to prove Gabriel wrong, then dispose of it. He had thought that this particular human would either expire from fear or try to avenge her god. _A lot of ‘em try. To do better. To forgive_. Instead, he had encountered a different level of brainwashing -- and power -- than expected. “Made to serve” indeed. What was she, a robot?

“You know,” he said, voice back under control, “you touched me without my permission. I gotta say -- ballsy. And that gets my respect. But see,” and now he grimaced, as if saddened by what he was about to say, “all things considered, you can understand why that’s not exactly allowed.”

She breathed into the floor, still quivering. “Yes, my lord.”

He placed a hand on the back of her neck. The fear of another was something he took pleasure in, it was true. He could feel her tremors. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “We’re going to have to do something about what just happened.” She shook harder.

Letting go of a long, drawn-out breath, Lucifer went to a nearby cabinet and removed a whip. It was simple enough, nothing particularly nasty, but it would hurt. He went over to the bed. “Come here.”

Dee obeyed. The trembling was beginning to cease. She had seen the whip; if this was all he had planned for her, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She had experienced worse. This particular pain, well… at least she was familiar with it.

No it would not be pleasant. Yes she would be fine. She repeated these things to herself on the way over.

Of course, her captor was still naked and standing near a bed, so… that was another matter. But she wouldn’t think about that. Not until she had to.

With firm hands, he faced her towards the bed and tied each wrist to a post, spreading out her arms as though they were wings. Then he regarded her clothing. She had on a rather fetching blue dress, tied in several places at the back and coming down to just above her knees. Simple but elegant. Would be a shame to ruin it completely; and, as he had not exactly been looking for female clothing when he took possession of this house, he had no idea how long it might take to replace it. Best to keep it whole for now.

Not that he cared whether she was clothed or not, but he wanted to save that particular psychological test for another time.

So he reached for the ties and undid them, one by one, pushing the dress open at her back until it was hanging from her arms to the top of her buttocks. From the side, he could see the curve of a breast. He hummed, pleased. In this body, he had to admit that the female form of this species had some appealing features.

“What do you think, Dee?” he breathed in her ear. His hands were on her hips, thumbs rubbing small circles into the base of her spine. “Ten lashes? Twenty?” He stroked a finger down her back. “I want to save some of that skin for later.”

She tensed, and breathed. “Whatever you wish, master.” Oooh, so she was calling him master now. Interesting. He noticed that she seemed much calmer than a few moments ago.

“Let me know if you need something to bite down on.”

And he began. The first lash struck her and she yelped. It had been years, and her skin was softer than the last time it had been used this way. It hurt more than she remembered. Clenching her jaw, she waited for the next one and gasped when it landed. And tensed. The blow came. She whimpered. And again.

And again.

She wanted to keep her reactions contained, but she knew that Lucifer would need some sign that she was hurting. That was the point of the exercise. So once she had acclimated to the pain, she gave him those signs: little cries that got louder over time, more ragged, more desperate, all to let him know that it was working, that the punishment was being felt, that she was learning her lesson.

Communication with gods was something she had perfected.

She would have added a wonderfully eloquent sob at the end, if not for the fact that she didn’t know exactly when he was going to stop. She had been counting and he had passed ten lashes. Then twenty. She tried to focus on a spot on the wall before her.

He stopped at thirty-three. She was still waiting for the whip to fall when she felt hands on her wrist, undoing the knots. She made sure her breathing was panicked enough to illustrate how much pain she was in.

“Ssshhhhhh…” He had a very gentle way about him. Thumbs pressed into the base of her neck, and she found herself relaxing. Although she knew that it was an act, meant to inspire gratitude in those he mistreated, she couldn’t help being swayed by it just a little. Easier to take comfort in something false than stay cold to the ministrations of the one controlling you.

After releasing her arms, he redid the ties on her dress with careful fingers. Although the lashes had raised long welts upon her back, they were not bleeding outright. Gabriel would have been proud of his restraint.

He buried that thought painfully.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Lucifer turned her around to face him. “Now,” he said, wide-eyed and playful, almost forgiving, almost kind, “do you want to try that again?” He reached out, stroking her face tenderly. She suppressed a shudder.

Smiling, he turned and went back to the bathtub, sinking into it and closing his eyes as before.

For a moment she didn’t remember what he meant, and then -- oh. She considered her words carefully.

“My lord, I believe I can take away your pain. May I touch you?”

He smiled, eyes still closed. Lesson learned. “You may.”

Dee walked towards him slowly. He had said it didn’t hurt, but… she had to be sure before going too far. “Please tell me if it causes any discomfort.” She spoke the spell again, and reached for him.

The clear sigh of relief that passed his lips made her relax. She was safe; it was working. His bodily tension decreased, little by little. Eventually he was floating in the water with little regard for the world around him.

After a few minutes, Dee decided to explore the connection between them. It was as she suspected: his weight was gone. The absence of pain… blissful. It wasn’t long before she became aware of a small noise in the back of his throat. It was the whine of complete release. She smiled.

They stayed that way for a long time -- her fingers on his temple, his head resting on the lip of the tub, body relaxed in every way, until...

“Stop.” His voice rang with command. She removed her hands.

Lucifer sighed, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “You must tell me how you do that.”

He sounded at peace, and this made her happy. Good. She had done something right. Then she realized: he wasn’t being facetious. He actually wanted an answer.

What could she say? Among the gods she knew, her kind were commonplace. It was an ancient tradition -- children were raised from birth to serve, taught various skills and inscribed with sigils so they could channel magic that would not otherwise be possible for a human. She knew as much as any of them did. She knew what she was capable of, and she knew how those abilities could serve the gods.

But angels?

Until a few years ago, she thought they were a myth. It was only when her former master had been waxing poetic about the good old days when angels walked among them that she learned about the reality of their existence. And she had never had the opportunity to see how her power interacted with theirs.

“Little ape? I bade you _speak_.” His voice was insistent, but he seemed in better spirits than before.

“Um… it’s a gift.” She struggled for the right words. “I come from a line of people who are raised to serve the gods. We are… chosen. From a young age. They took me and…” she swallowed a memory, her mother’s eyes in the rain… “They taught me things that would be of use.”

“Spells?”

“And other things. Ways to serve.” She grew more sure of herself as he listened. “And they gave me their marks. The gods… they are powerful, but limited. They have needs. They can feel pain. And… I know how to ease that pain.” She hesitated. “I wasn’t sure whether it would work on you.”

Lucifer almost chuckled at that. “You weren’t sure it would work on me, and you tried it anyway. That was risky, you know.” He was silent for a moment. “Although there aren’t many things that can hurt me. What would you have done if the spell had inflicted pain, instead of removing it?”

“I figured you would simply kill me.”

At this, the archangel sat up. He stood, and climbed out of the bath. He even looked better; some of the blisters had healed and the circles around his eyes had lightened. Wordlessly she dried him with a towel and then wrapped him in it, tucking the cloth to make it stay around his hips. Her fingers deftly avoided the touch of his skin.

Task complete, she stepped back. He turned to regard her amusedly. “You don’t care much for your own life, do you?”

Dee kept her eyes trained on the floor. “I’ve become accustomed to the idea of death, my lord.” 

“How strange.” He gestured to a new set of clothing, laid out for him by Meg a few hours ago. She went to retrieve it. “Tell me, how do you reconcile yourself to fact that you will die?” He looked at her pityingly, or something like it. “Can’t give you much to look forward to.”

“In all honesty…” she hesitated. Her gods had never asked her to reveal her thoughts like this, and it was unsettling to share them now. What if he punished her for them?

“Yes?”

Returning to his side, she knelt to dress him. She could only do as she was told. “It’s a relief.” When he said nothing, she continued. “What joys and sorrows we have in life can only be made more poignant by the fact that they are not endless.” She waited for him to step into the jeans, one leg at a time, and then brought them up to his waist to zip and fasten them, nestling them about his hips with care. “There is a saying I have always liked: Memento mori.”

“Remember that you will die,” he murmured.

“Yes.” Pants achieved, she rose with the t-shirt. He obliged by raising his arms, and she threaded the sleeves around them.

She tried to ignore the way he was watching her; his eyes were hungry, calculating, emotionless.

“I have walked through the lives of many people, and I have seen what they do in good times and bad. The knowledge of death makes them strive to have the most they can in their lives -- of whatever they value.” She finished with the button-down shirt, leaving it open the way the previous one had been. “Valuing the right things, though… that’s the challenge.”

“And what do you value?” The quietness of his voice was unnerving.

She paused, thinking of all the things she could say; but the answer to this question had been drilled into her since childhood. “To be of use.” Kneeling, she reached to clothe his feet.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up. “No socks. I need to… feel the earth.” Nodding, she put them away.

“I notice you called me ‘master’ once. ‘My lord,’ several times or not at all. Why?”

“I can use any address you wish, of course.”

“Mmm… that’s not what I asked.”

Disquieted by his probing, she considered the question carefully. “A servant can play many roles, depending on the degree of submission required. It can be helpful to use different addresses based on the situation.”

“Hmm. You _are_ a robot,” Lucifer said, pleased.

She was confused; was that a compliment?

Savoring her stillness, he began to circle. Time to spice things up.

“You know, I have to say -- I have never met a human so at peace with itself. It almost makes me want to call the whole thing off.” He paused to contemplate this notion, then continued. “But not really. I mean, you’re not exactly normal for your race, are you?” With relish, he took in her wooden expression. “And the rest of them?” He waved a hand dismissively. “They’d be better off if they had never existed.”

Finally, a reaction. Was that a hint of defiance in those eyes? Well. How delightful.

“But you know, you have convinced me,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “that maybe I should find more humans to save.” He laughed. “I mean. They can’t _all_ be bad, can they?” He looked her up and down. “If they're half as entertaining as you...”

Her expression had turned from wood to stone. She dared not argue with him -- what was there to say? Her gods were dead, and without them she was nothing. No, not nothing: human, for better or worse. Wasn’t it her duty to say something? The world was about to be destroyed, and here before her was the being who was going to do it.

Her training splintered; inside her was growing something she had not felt in a long time. Fury? Indignation? She whirled to face him.

“Is that all we are?” she asked, voice cracking. “Entertainment?”

Lucifer tilted his head to one side. “Yes,” he decided. He raised his eyebrows in feigned sadness. “And that’s all you will ever be.”

The ensuing look of betrayal did not surprise him. In fact, it had been the entire point of the conversation: breaking that infuriating calm was the first step towards breaking _her_.

“Don’t worry,” he said. Ambling towards the door, he threw her back a promising smile. “I’ll give you a front-row seat to the show.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dee tries things a different way, with unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't go away, folks; we're just getting started.

It was 12 hours before he graced her presence again. 12 hours in which she contemplated all that he had said to her -- and all she had said to him.

12 hours to figure out how to play this one.

He might be back at any time, and so first she made sure the room was ready for him -- sheets clean, bath clean, clothes laid out, floor swept.

This took less than an hour. Then she found a corner that felt peaceful and sat, crossing her legs, to begin her contemplations. Her back was straight and her hands invited the world.

There were questions to answer, too many questions. She wasn’t even sure which ones were the most important.

What would an angel want in a servant? More specifically, what did this particular angel want with her?

Was she going to die? If not, how could she survive with minimal pain? (This question was common when encountering a new master.)

How could she save humanity?

The last question irked her. It wasn’t her responsibility. She was human, yes, but she was something else as well. Something more. Surely it wasn’t up to her? She was a servant, not a hero.

But she didn’t know any heroes, and humanity was running out of time.

For a long moment, she considered his weaknesses: he was tired. Desperate. Trapped within a flawed vessel. All of heaven was against him. Surely, this begged the question of what could be done to stop him.

It was too much. Rebellion was foreign to her, sacrilege, despicable in every sense. Until a way to defeat him presented itself, she was better off limiting her energy to her captor’s needs and her own survival.

At some point she decided to sleep. She was exhausted. This day had included several murders and a number of imminent threats on her life. Eyeing the bed apprehensively, she chose to curl up in the corner with a blanket scavenged from the closet.

Her dreams were fitful, nightmarish things, full of blood and death and feelings of worthlessness. She imagined herself strung up before Lucifer, being taunted and tortured, unable to escape degradation, unable to die. She woke in a cold sweat and found herself wondering at the prophetic capabilities of her subconscious mind.

In the early morning, Meg brought her a meal -- a single energy bar. Apparently there was no chef in residence. She thanked the demon politely.

Dee returned to meditating.

The archangel seemed to enjoy hearing her thoughts. He had a strict sense of rules -- or rather, of when punishment was due -- but in other ways treated her as a companion rather than a piece of furniture.

He also wanted to get a reaction from her. This she was used to, but usually the goal was fear, not anger. Certainly not insubordination. Why was he pushing those buttons?

And he didn’t seem to particularly care how she addressed him.

Maybe that was the answer. Dial down the subservience and dial up the conversation. She also had one ace up her survival sleeve: there was no denying that the limitations of his vessel were wearing on him terribly, and that spell had helped.

There was another thing to consider, and that was this: she was no longer a servant. That’s not what he wanted, not really, and if she stayed within that role, she would not keep his interest for long. Briefly she considered just going with it, lulling him into a sense of boredom until he killed her -- but the idea unsettled her. It was no way to end.

Painful though it may be, she would have to reinvent herself.

She spent the next few hours deep in thought, hoping… hoping she could do what was needed.

 

~~~

 

If 12 hours had given Dee time to plan, it had given Lucifer a certain spring in his step and an insatiable hunger for demon blood.

And, strangely enough, hamburgers.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, chewing on a quarter-pounder from the nearest burger joint, “this is incredible. You know, I never thought I would say it, but eating cows is almost as good as eating people. You really hit the nail on the head there.” He licked fingers that were already stained with blood. A demon lay on the floor, having just given up its life to sustain him.

Dee said nothing. It wasn’t the dead demon that bothered her. Two gods ago Dee had served a member of the Hindu pantheon, and since then, cows had not been on her menu.

Noticing her silence, Lucifer held out his burger. “Care for a bite?”

Hunger won out. One energy bar from several hours ago did not a human sustain. Reluctantly, she nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” She took one bite, chewing it carefully, and handed back the greasily-wrapped meat sandwich.

Noticing her informal speech, he shot her a look but did not comment. He went back to licking his fingers and chewing on cow meat.

“Let me tell you what’s been going on,” he said. “As you know, I’ve been trying to end the world. Well, not so much the world as the people in it.”

“I’m aware.”

“Don’t interrupt,” he chided. “Now. For everything to go the way it’s supposed to, I need my true vessel -- which happens to be a human by the name of Sam Winchester -- to say yes and let me in. My brother, Michael, needs his true vessel -- Sam’s brother, Dean -- to do the same. Once we have our vessels, the battle can commence.” Finishing his hamburger, he gave a satisfied sigh and chucked the wrapper over his shoulder. “Everything up until then is just foreplay.”

Dee nodded.

“But what delicious foreplay. Because for every angel I kill now, that’s one less to oppose my rule once I take my place in heaven. So it’s really all just political legwork. And today…” He grinned. “Today I ran a marathon.”

“How many humans are dead?”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed. “Well Dee,” he said, in a voice orchestrated to convey surprise, “that’s an interesting question. I honestly didn’t notice. Maybe a thousand or so? See, for me it was more about my brethren, less about the pests that were roaming about underfoot.” His voice dropped an octave. “Although if you like, I can take you there to see for yourself. If you really want to know.” He reached for her shoulder.

“No.” She took a step back. “I don’t want to see.”

He stopped, staring at her curiously. “I’m sorry, did you just -- refuse me?” He cocked his head. “Has something changed? I was under the impression that you were here to serve me.” He raised his eyebrows. “‘Made to serve.’ That’s what _you_ said.” He crossed his arms expectantly.

She took another step back.

“Dee,” he warned, “Now you want to think very carefully about this. I don’t really keep humans around. Not unless they have a purpose. So I’m asking you to think, _real hard_ , on whether you pull your weight around here. Because otherwise, I gotta tell you -- “ he shook his head sadly “-- you won’t last long.”

The bed was behind her; she could go no further. “I know I serve a purpose,” she breathed. “But it’s not to blindly serve. You seem to have plenty of people for that.” She thought about adding, _Besides, you’re not a god_ , but something told her that would just piss him off.

“Oh?” He was humoring her now.

“I’m here because you want a human around. For… some reason. Maybe you want my perspective, I don’t know. And believe me,” she said, trying with all her might not to look away from those dead, burning eyes, “when it comes to that, I have plenty to give. But none of that will help if I’m just… an object to you.”

He chuckled, moving closer to her. _Too close_. But she did not yield.

“And what if I wanted something else?” he asked. He reached a hand down to her belly button, moving it lower, oh so slowly. “I mean. You’re a human… I’m in a human vessel… what do you think? It could be fun.”

She was doing her best to keep her heartbeat even, her breathing slow. Damn.

Tradition said that servants didn’t want to be fucked. Society said that she shouldn’t enjoy it. Common sense said that sex within unbalanced power dynamics was a recipe for problems. All this considered, it should be a terrible idea.

But she didn’t hate sex. Some of the gods had been incredible lovers. And for all her experiences, she had never, ever fucked a being as powerful as this.

“Are you asking?” Her voice was rough and low. “Or are you telling?”

He took his hand away. “Up to you.”

No one had ever given her the choice before. She barely had the wit to comprehend it. But then…

She laid a hand on his chest, and said yes.

His mouth quirked up, and his tongue met hers with enthusiasm. Oh. Okay, wow. Who had taught the devil to be such a good kisser?

His hands began to move: first on her dress, untying it and pushing it out of the way to the floor, then underneath her as he laced his arms around her shoulders and backside to lay her fully on the bed. She undressed him as well -- with much less decorum than when she was putting on his clothes -- and slid her hands around his torso to his tailbone, massaging it gently. He practically purred; once she got going, he would be putty in her hands.

This was the sort of thing that went under “other skills.”

He found her entrance and she sighed, his fingers working within her, exploring and pushing her closer to true rapture. In response, she reached down to take hold of him, stroking gently. Her other hand traced patterns around his nipples, brushing them every so often to fill him with sensation. She started to guide his cock towards her.

He stopped.

Answering the question in her eyes, he said, “Let’s make this a little more interesting, shall we?” He rolled over to the nightstand and came away with restraints: soft, black, and cushioned with velcro straps.

“You or me?” Dee asked, mostly kidding.

He raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes in a way that she knew would be charming, and began to strap one restraint around her wrist. Their pretense was making the balance of power in this relationship a bit more equal for the moment, but she didn’t want to push it.

Once she was secured to all four posts, Lucifer sat back on his heels to look at her. “What a peculiar thing you are,” he said softly.

Now that she was spread out and tied down, he could see all the sigils carved into her skin and inked in with tattoos. They were inscribed on her shoulder blades, next to her hips, in the crook of her elbows, the bottoms of her feet, above her heart -- even in the palms of her hands.

She lay still, watching him.

Beginning with the sigil at her foot, he trailed a finger lightly up her leg, bypassing that more sensitive area -- which was nearly throbbing with need -- and explored the other marks with his fingers. She sighed and closed her eyes. They had healed into scars long ago, and no longer caused her the pain they did when she was a child, but at his touch something within them _ached_.

She wished she knew enough about magic to understand why.

He pressed down on the two sigils in the palms of her hands, and she gasped. That had actually hurt.

“Who gave you these?” Lucifer asked quietly.

Dee was not happy; this was supposed to be about pleasure, not exposition. “The elders of my line carved them into me when I was a child.”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “Are you sure it wasn’t something more powerful?”

“I don’t know,” she said, no longer trying to conceal her impatience. “There may have been someone else there. I’m not sure.” She squirmed. “Can we…?” She wanted release.

Lucifer looked at her solemnly, then leaned over her to take her jaw in his strong grip, face inches from hers. “Let me explain something to you, little ape,” he murmured. “You’re here because you amuse me. That’s all. Not for your spells, and not for your ‘perspective.’” His hand caressed her brow, then moved to her throat, pressing down just enough to threaten her air supply. “As valuable as you might think you are, you’re still just vermin.” His eyes bored into hers. “And don’t think for one minute that I am incapable of growing tired of you.”

He released her. Shame crept into her face and she averted her gaze. She didn’t want to look anymore.

“I’m sorry, master,” she whispered.

“Uh-uh,” he objected. “None of that now. You’re more appealing without the use of titles. Besides, I thought we were past that stage.” Miserable, she didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say.

“Howbout this,” Lucifer decided. “You lie here and consider what I’ve just said, while I occupy myself in more… fruitful ways.” Lump in her throat, she nodded.

He started to touch her again. This time, her shudders were not of pleasure. She had long been accustomed to feigning enjoyment in sex when there was none to be had, but this entire relationship made her head spin. She was a servant, or she was a person. What did he want from her?

“You know, you really ought to loosen up,” he said, trailing knuckles up her sides. “Get rid of this tension. You’ll have more fun, I promise. It’s okay,” he said, noticing the worry on her brow. “I’ll do all the work. You just… relax. Close your eyes.” She did so.

Once she had escaped from the danger of seeing him, things became simpler. The caresses on her skin felt better. More… arousing. She was still deeply upset about what he had said, but she was beginning to sink into an acceptance that this feeling was just going to be part of her life for now.

As she felt a touch between her legs, she let her apprehension go in one long sigh. Better to focus on the matter at hand.

Lucifer was finding all the spots on her skin where she had ever wanted to be touched… her sides, just beneath her breasts… the insides of her upper arms… he even snaked a hand down to the back of her knee. She gave a small gasp of contentment.

He entered her with surety, pressing into her until she groaned. Resting there for one long moment, he alighted tender kisses on her eyelids, her neck, the tip of her nose. She couldn’t take it; she began to plead with him.

Her eyes were still closed, but she could feel his smile.

His hips began to move, thrusting into her steadily. For a while there was a kind of peace -- she listened to her breath, squeezed her hips in sync with his. The need beckoned, and he sped up. She was nearly there. She wrapped her fingers around the restraints, holding tight as she prepared…

And then he pulled out of her with a suddenness that left her shaking. With one, two strokes of his own hand, he spilled his seed on her belly.

Sighing, he sat up, a warm presence between her thighs. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Not today, sweetheart.”

Slapping her cunt playfully, he got up and went to wash, leaving her tied up and filthy on his bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight segue. Remember how Castiel banished himself and four other angels in the episode right before "Hammer of the Gods" to give Sam and Dean more time to confront Zachariah?
> 
> His first destination is no shrimping boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Content Warning: Suicidal behavior.

Castiel woke with a start. Grey stone walls surrounded him, lit by lanterns that flickered in the draft. For a moment he took it all in, trying to grasp memories from his mind and failing. Who was he? Where was he? He felt a peculiar sensation in his arms. Looking up, he saw that he was suspended from the ceiling from his wrists. It hurt. A lot.

With a groan, he tried to heal his vessel but -- no. Dread mounted as he realized that for the first time he could remember, his Grace was not responding.

He was powerless.

It came flooding back then -- the fact of his angelic existence, the war against Lucifer, the rebellion he had dared to embrace. The angels surrounding him, betrayed looks in their eyes as they closed the distance. And then a pain in his chest, a horrific self-inflicted pain that negated his physical presence entirely. He had paid dearly to send his brethren away from the scene so that Dean would have a fighting chance… and he was still here.

He was still here. But where was here?

A door opened. A figure entered. And suddenly Castiel felt dread like he only felt once before.

Lucifer smiled upon him.

“What -- “ Castiel flexed his wrists, making the manacles clink. “What am I doing here? How -- “

“Oh brother.” Lucifer walked forwards to lay a finger against Castiel’s lips. “It was a strange thing, Castiel.” His eyes conveyed a deep amusement. “When they said they had found an angel, I thought simply to kill it. But then I saw it was you. And I said, well. Here’s an opportunity.”

“I will never join you,” Castiel said angrily. “No matter what you say. No matter what happens.” Strung up like so much jerky, he could imagine some things.

“Castiel.” The rebuke in Lucifer’s voice was all too plain. “I’m not here to convince you. Oh, I could, of course -- and wouldn't that be fun --" he quirked his eyebrows suggestively -- "but see, I don't need you. What I’m interested in is my vessel.”

Cass watched him warily. “You are not taking Sam Winchester.”

“So you said. You know, you’re rather straightforward in your defiance, aren’t you?” Lucifer began to walk slow, sure steps about Castiel’s suspended body. “If you just employed a little _guile_ , you’d get much better results.”

The iron was biting into his wrists, and the suspension was making him ache.  “I don’t need advice from you,” he spat.

Lucifer continued circling. “Where are the Winchesters now?” He placed a hand on Castiel’s chest where the sigil had been carved, and the angel hissed.

“How -- should I know?” asked the angel, gritting his teeth. “I am not their keeper.”

“Hmm.” The archangel took his hand away. “That’s all right. The truth is, I already know. They’re in Sioux Falls, of course.” He registered Cass’s shock with warm eyes, and leaned in. “Just pushing your buttons,” he whispered.

Cass’s breath went in and out, in and out. “You won’t convince him.” He had faith in Sam. More faith, strangely, than he had in his own kind. Trusting a human was a new thing to him, but there had never been anything that had felt more right. Maybe this was what their Father had meant.

“Well Castiel,” Lucifer’s voice curled around that name like only an angel’s would, “let’s just say… I have faith.” He stepped back, regarding his strung-up brother thoughtfully. “Now.” He snapped his fingers. The chains disappeared, letting Castiel crumple to the floor. “What do you say we see what this vessel is made of?” His head tilted to one side, and he concentrated...

Cass had barely time to wonder what that meant - surely the archangel knew? - before he was feeling pain, more pain than he had experienced in a long time. He screamed, and screamed… and screamed.

Lucifer smiled.

 

~~~

 

Dee had been strapped to the bed a few hours before Meg came to see her.

The demon undid one restraint -- her left wrist -- scoffed, and then left. Dee was grateful she didn’t do more. The shame was already too much.

Unfastening herself from the posts, she sat up carefully. The sticky mess on her abdomen had nearly dried. Placing one hand to hold it against her, she walked gingerly to the bathtub and turned on the tap.

After a few minutes she was clean. She breathed a sigh of relief. She could take stock once more.

If angels were not kind, neither were gods. She was no stranger to degradation. Truthfully, the most mortifying thing about this whole situation was they way each conversation seemed to end: with Lucifer smirking, and her heart in her throat.

Maybe this is just how it would be. Could one really play the devil?

Dee had dealt with difficult gods before. She had always managed to reach an equilibrium of sorts. There was no reason -- _no reason_ \-- why she couldn't do that here as well.

Except that Lucifer did not operate by the same standards, nor with the same intentions. He did not want to be worshiped. He wanted to rule. He wanted ultimate power to decide who lived and who died. He wanted… he wanted to be _his father_.

With a jolt Dee realized what she could use against him. He was powerful, yes, but his mind was broken. He craved his father's love, though he couldn't admit it; he craved perfection; he craved paradise.

He wanted to go back.

That was the problem with everyone who wanted to destroy the world, she thought sadly. They couldn’t get past their own nostalgia.

Framed in these terms, her task was simple: give him everything he wanted, while undermining everything he believed in.

Well. Far from simple. But doable? She thought so, yes. And since she had few other options, there was nothing else for it but to try.

Her stomach gave an insistent growl, bringing her back to the moment. With a sigh, she went to enquire about food.

Being human was such a drag.

 

~~~

 

Meg returned to her Father’s side late that afternoon. He was sitting in a chair, staring into the fireplace. The juxtaposition of warmth from the hearth and chill from the late-March air rattling through the windows made the parlor a whirlwind, which suited Lucifer just fine. The world was in chaos and soon, it would be purged of all iniquity.

“Cass is up,” she said. She had gone to check on the angel some hours after her Father’s visit, and he had woken to her merry eyes and rough handling. At present, he was chained to a wall, awaiting further conversation.

Lucifer did not answer. The bodies of four demons lay around him, sacrificed that he might live in this form. He did, however, reach out a hand to her, and she sunk to her knees by his side, allowing him to stroke her hair absently.

He did not notice, nor did he care, how she quivered under his touch.

They sat that way for some time, letting the firelight flicker over them and cast shadows in the late afternoon light. Meg’s eyes closed. She would take this feeling forever.

Early in the evening, Lucifer stirred. Meg lifted her head. “Pestilence will soon be in trouble,” he said, eyes far away. “Send him some reinforcements.” Bowing her head, she left to follow his instructions.

Sighing, Lucifer pushed himself out of his chair. Might as well see what the human was up to.

Flinging open the door to the bedroom (he did so love to make an entrance), he was treated to an unexpected sight.

There, in the bathtub, was a naked Dee, unconscious and bleeding out from the wrists.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone gets their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Discussion of suicidal behavior.

Lucifer did not spring into action. That was not his way. Instead, he regarded the scene before him with perfect detachment.

“Huh,” he said.

Walking forward, he touched Dee’s forehead.

The wounds in her wrists closed. The color returned to her cheeks. She sat up, coughing.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Lucifer said, amused.

Dee looked at him sourly. He offered her a hand, and she used it to raise herself out of the bath. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Not the most effective way to kill yourself, I gotta say. Did they teach you that in slave academy?”

She dried herself with a towel efficiently, ignoring his looks. Lucifer shifted on his feet. The physical reactions of this vessel were distracting.

“You said you wanted the world rid of humans,” she said coldly. “So I thought I’d spare you the trouble of murdering this one.”

“Dee,” he scolded, taking the towel from her grasp and wrapping it about her shoulders. “Honeybee. You _really_ have an odd mind. Very… self-sacrificing.” He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her close, looking down into her eyes with clinical scrutiny. “But yearning to be free… and you’re angry. Oh,” he held her as she tried to pull away, “angry at me. That’s kind of a futile reaction, don’t you think?”

He took his hand away, and she backed up a few steps, still glaring.

“I mean, it’s not really my fault, you know. All this -- _turmoil_ , and _bloodshed_ \-- it was written long ago. And not by me.” He raised his eyebrows and pointed upwards. “I’m just playing my part.”

“So the script is written,” she said, unimpressed. “That doesn’t mean you have to follow it.” Ignoring his scoff, she turned and walked away. Her dress was where she had left it -- on the bed. As she clothed herself, she glanced back over her shoulder to where he was watching. “The fact that you’re just following the path your Father laid out for you… you know what it makes you, right?”

“What?” He seemed willing to indulge her, for now.

“A tool,” she said simply.

He grew still. “What did you say to me?” His voice held an edge; this was dangerous territory.

She pressed on. “Don’t hate the messenger, you know it’s true.” On graceful legs, she crossed the room to the dresser, taking up the brush and running it through her wet, tangled hair.

He chuckled at the notion. “And you think I should… what? Spare humanity? Keep this world running for another few miserable millennia? Really? Just how,” he spat, suddenly furious, “would that solve _anything_?”

Was she getting under his skin? Good.

She was combing her hair, seemingly oblivious to his anger. “You were made perfect, weren’t you?” she asked. “I mean, when God made you, you _knew_ that you were the best thing he had ever created.” At his uncertain glance, she elaborated. “I’ve heard the stories. There’s really no doubt. He loved you. You were perfect. And yet… you rebelled.” Lucifer’s cold eyes held hers. “So what does that say about you? Surely a god so omniscient would not have made _that_ kind of mistake.”

In a split second he was on her, his hand grasping her throat. “Say that again,” he snarled.

Aware of the threat, she conserved her breath. “He made you to be what you are,” she bit off. “He made you -- to rebel.”

Lucifer loosened his grip, but did not step back. “I’ve often thought of that,” he confessed, breath heavy on her face. “I don’t see that it changes much.”

“But if you changed course?” she asked. “Maybe he’d come back.”

He disengaged entirely then, backing away to stare at her. Wait. No. This was not the reaction she was going for.

“I don’t want him to come back,” he said.

She shot him a quizzical look. “But if he came back… he could restore you.”

He laughed bitterly. “You don’t know my Father,” he said. “There is no going back.”

Dee swallowed this information, desperate to win the high ground here. “So... why do what he wants at all?” she asked. “You could say ‘to hell’ with the whole thing.”

He was staring at the bathtub now, as if remembering something he didn’t want to. Something he regretted… and then she realized.

“That’s what Gabriel wanted you to do, isn’t it?”

He shot her a sharp look. Then a rueful one. “You know, if I had wanted a therapist, I would have kidnapped one,” he said.

She flashed him a smile. “Guess you’re stuck with me until you do, then,” she teased.

He looked at her again, and this time his eyes burned with need. Before she had time to realize what was happening, she was wrapped in his embrace, yielding to his mouth and the attention of his hands, exploring his body with the same ferocity that he was visiting upon her own. A tangle of arms and legs and hips and skin, they found their way to the bed and sought refuge there, hardly noticing when they went from vertical to horizontal. Clothes were ripped; lips were bitten; they had neither the time nor the inclination to pull down the covers, conceding to take their fill on top of the blankets instead.

He entered her quickly this time, and with a few thrusts -- two -- three -- four! -- he had her sighing with delight. He continued for a couple moments, then stopped.

“Face the bed,” he said. She obliged.

He felt down between her legs and inserted a few fingers into the spot he had just vacated. She was wet and open and aching from her orgasm; lubricating his hand liberally, he moved it back, searching for her anus.

She gasped and hyperventilated when he started working her loose, moving in a finger and then two, then three. Before long she was groaning. She couldn’t stretch any more. Surely he knew that?

She felt his cock breach the area and she yelled in shock.

He started moving and didn’t let up. Each thrust pounded into her, faster and faster, tearing her apart until she could no longer hold back, and she _screamed_.

But this wasn’t about her. At least, not entirely. It was several more thrusts before he slowed, gritting his teeth and sighing, and she felt something warm and fluid filling her insides. She shuddered; the pain was more of a raw ache now, but it still hurt.

He made a contented noise and, shifting to his side, wrapped his arms around her. She settled in.

His fingers drew circles about her breasts, enticing and deadly. “You wouldn’t like me with a therapist,” he whispered.

“No,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t.” Her hands twined about his possessively, and she murmured a few words -- a spell for sleep.

He sighed, head heavy upon her neck, and drifted off into slumber.

 

~~~

 

The door screeched open and the resulting draft caused the lanterns to flicker.

Castiel’s eyes opened.

“Meg?” he said incredulously.

“Heya Clarence,” she said, swaying into the room like a movie star. “Long time no see.”

He watched her like a rabbit watches a wolf, all too aware that the last time they had been in the same room, he had tried to kill her and, failing that, had shoved her into a circle of burning holy oil.

She chuckled, aware of his tension. “Relax, buddy. I mean, that holy oil… don’t get me wrong, it hurt and all, but I get it. And 'sides, you could have done worse.” She brought her fingers up to his chin, letting them rest there for a moment, then drawing them down along his neck and onto his chest. "I could do worse," she whispered. With a quick motion, she ripped open his shirt to expose the raised scabs beneath it. She breathed out in amazement.

“Banished yourself to save the Winchesters, huh? You must really have a thing for them.”

He looked uncomfortable. “It seemed like an appropriate action at the time.”

“But you’re all out of angel juice now, aren’t ya?” She smiled sardonically at him. “Lucifer told me. You’re helpless as a newborn. It’s almost sad.”

“What did you come here for?” he asked. “I’d rather be alone.”

“Oh, Clarence,” she sighed, stepping close to him. “What you want doesn’t matter anymore. You’re _here_ . With _us_. And we’re going to take care of you.”

Leaning in, she kissed him. At first it seemed wrong, unclean, evil -- joining himself with a demon in this way -- but she was persistent and quite skilled. After a few moments, he relented. He kissed her back.

 _No_ , his mind said. _Yes_ , his body insisted.

Smiling, she reached for his trousers and went to work.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy and Dee have a post-coital chat.

Dee opened her eyes to find Lucifer staring.

It was a little bit unsettling, but she covered. A smile played upon her face and she reached to caress his. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly.

“Yes, it is,” he said. His voice was light but his eyes were serious. She tried to ignore that part.

“Did you sleep well?” She didn’t want to be so obvious, but she needed to know whether her spell had worked as intended. She had drifted off herself soon after the activity of last night.

Lucifer rolled onto his back, sighing. “Oh, I slept. Weirdest thing in creation, I swear.” He looked over to her and reached a hand out casually to stroke her hair. “And I know you had something to do with it.” His fingers suddenly gripped the hair near the back of her neck and held it tight, yanking her head back slightly. His eyes caught hers, and held them.

She grew still.

“But I don’t care.” He let go and his other hand snaked over to her torso, encircling her bare skin and drawing her near. She squirmed under his touch; last night’s pleasure was too near, and her thoughts went to sex. Ensnaring his fingers with her hand, she brought them to her lips and kissed them, one by one. Her other hand reached for his dick.

It was already erect. “Oh, fine,” Lucifer sighed, and rolled onto her.

This bout of lovemaking was businesslike: he pounded into her with purpose until she moaned, and shuddered her way into stillness, and he released into her, and they rested for a few minutes, joined and not caring, until they broke apart to regroup.

“Was he a good lover?” he asked casually.

Dee froze.

“Um. Who?”

Lucifer traced circles along her abdomen. “Manannan.”

“How do you…?”

His mouth moved to her stomach, placing kisses upon her hips and then moving lower. She sighed happily. “Tell me,” he breathed.

Then he began applying his tongue to certain areas in a way that drove all thoughts from her head. She grasped at words but couldn’t make them happen. Oh gods, this was too much.

Her whine was a plea - which he ignored - and her cries grew louder. His tongue slowed maddeningly, still filling her with pleasure but keeping that desired moment at bay. Frustrated, she bucked her hips. He paused. “Tell me,” he said again. Reluctantly she answered his question.

“Yes!”

He started again with renewed energy, and she thought she was almost there… but then he slowed once more. She groaned in frustration. “And did you love him?” he whispered. His tongue drew circles in her skin.

She tried to hold out, but his attentions were infuriating. “Yes,” she admitted, aching.

Lucifer let her reach her climax at last. With a sigh she came, digging her fingers into his arms as they held her to the bed. He stayed with her through each wave, until at last they subsided and languor set in.

As she relaxed, he crawled up next to her again. His eyes were oppressive, bright with this new information. She avoided them. “How did you know?”

He gave her a look. “Oh honey. I’m the devil. How do you think?”

In her dreams she had stood at a cliffside, hair whipping in the wind, and arms encircled her waist. She had laughed and leaned into the man behind her. The god behind her. Brilliant sea-green eyes, sandy hair and beard, and tanned skin with a smattering of freckles covering a form that was perfect and mighty. He whispered sweetly into her ear, promising his love forevermore.

It had been one of the few times she had been truly happy, and Lucifer had plucked it from her head like a cherry. She wondered what else he had discovered while she slept.

“You know,” he began in a suggestive tone, “it occurs to me that I might have missed a few people in my little killing spree the other night.”

Slowly, Dee raised herself to sit up.

Lucifer lay there, head propped up with one arm, watching her with thoughtful eyes. She waited for the other shoe to drop.

“You don’t - still - care about him, do you?” he asked casually. “I mean, I’d understand if you did.”

Dee considered her answer carefully. He was messing with her. She knew that. He wanted to get a reaction. But he would also know if she was lying outright.

“I… have fond memories of him. So yeah, I guess. Maybe a little.” She blinked. “But it was a while ago. I’ve moved on. And I’m not the kind of person to -- I mean, people like me, we don’t look back.” She had been about to say  _ fall in love _ , but the truth was she had, and had already admitted it, so there was no denying that part of the story. She could only try to mask her current feelings on the matter, and hope he did not pry too closely.

“Huh,” he said. She couldn’t tell whether he believed her.

Stirring, he pushed the covers aside and reclaimed his clothes. “Well darlin’, much as I’d like to waste the day here with you, I’ve got an apocalypse to usher in and you know what they say.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “There’s no time like the present.”

“Can I come with you?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and she surprised herself by asking it. But she was tired of staying behind. The bone of contention between them was about the fate of humanity, after all. If she was there by his side, she’d have more chances to convince him.

Lucifer crossed his arms. “Oooohhhh, Dee,” he said, wincing, “I’m not sure it’s really your  _ scene _ .”

Casting off the sheets herself, she approached him and stood a few feet away, crossing her arms to mirror him. He watched her, amused in spite of himself.

“I’d rather be witness to what’s happening than spend the day staring at a wall,” she said.

Lucifer sighed. “Fair point,” he admitted. He took in her determined stare, then rolled his eyes. “Tell you what. Riding shotgun is a bit much to ask, but I’ve got a guest downstairs that could use some company.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Though you’ll probably want to be dressed for this. He’s a bit of a prude.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg has some fun, and Castiel learns some things about human sensation.

Castiel was sore. Not sexually speaking, although Meg had been thorough and inventive - no, it was the rest of his body that ached. He had been hanging here for hours, and his arms felt like they had never known their sockets. A respite would be wonderful.

But there was none coming. Meg had seen to that. “I’m disappointed, Clarence,” she had said not long ago, flicking her finger against his chest, “I thought you’d last longer than this. Now that’s a damn shame.”

It _was_ shame, shame which had changed his arousal to depression. At first, her seduction had been slow… gentle caresses down his sides, fingers barely touching his skin as she moved ever downward… light kisses under his chin, down his chest, in the dip between torso and thigh… he was trembling with anticipation when she finally put her lips where he wanted them to be.

And for a while, it had been wonderful. She had brought him to the edge and past it, crying out in ecstasy when he came for the very first time. _This_ was what made humans crave sex so. He understood now. _This_ … this was heaven. An altogether different kind of heaven than he was used to, but heaven nonetheless.

Then she brought her face up to his again, eyes brimming with smug satisfaction. “Clarence ain’t a virgin no more,” she whispered. And his heart sank. He wrapped himself in the shreds of his prickly dignity and gave the only response he could think of.

“So you chose to pleasure this vessel,” he said. “Am I supposed to be ashamed of that?”

“Not of the act, no,” she said playfully. “But of how much you enjoyed it? I’ll bet Daddy dearest has something to say about that.” And she kissed him again.

He resisted for longer this time, and Meg came up for air disappointed. Then she slapped him. “Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be,” she said. Then she glanced down. “Huh. Good recovery time. Or maybe you just like a little rough-housing,” she teased.

He glared.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said brightly. Moving over to the wall, she unhooked the chain that was holding him up and let it out several feet, enough that he could sink to the floor completely. Then she tied it off again, and approached.

Castiel was lying there, hunched over with his arms and hands before him, unbuttoned shirt splayed delightfully out to each side. He looked dead tired.

“Just so you know,” she breathed into his ear, “If I so much as scream, the guards come running. And guess what? They’ve got tasers. And after they barbecue you, I’ll give you a night you won’t soon forget, and it _won’t_ be a good one. So unless you’re really, _really_ into pain… don’t try anything. It’ll just end badly.”

“For you,” he said, and moving fast, he wrapped the chain around her neck. But she was faster - and stronger - than him, in his weakened state. Laughing, she clocked him in the jaw. He fell over, dragging her with him and earning a knee in the gut. Pulling the chain from around her neck, she grasped it in one hand and climbed on top of him. “This… is what you get…” she gasped, each blow of the chain cutting him across the face, “for not… paying… attention!”

He coughed and lay still, wracked with pain. The effort had cost him more energy than he had - and those blows hadn’t helped. With her weight pressing down, he just let go. He was done trying. He was done.

Still straddling him, she caught her own breath. “Jeez, Clarence,” she  said, “Everything was going so nice. Why’d ya have to ruin it?”

His breath came evenly. His eyes were closed, but she was pretty sure he was still awake.

“I bet we can still salvage this, though,” she speculated. Pinning each hand to the ground with her own, she ran her tongue along his face, dipping into his mouth for just a moment. He grunted. Softly, she stole kisses from him, kisses which he returned after a few seconds, and as she reached down to stroke his cock he whined with need.

He wasn’t himself. He wasn’t “firing on all cylinders,” as he had heard the Winchesters say. He was at the end of his rope… but still it was wrong.

Not wrong enough to stop him from flipping her over and returning those kisses with intensity, though.

His hand moved down to assist hers, as their mouths stayed joined in mock-battle. She let go of his wrist with her other hand and unzipped her own pants, then grabbed his hand and guided him to her entrance. He explored tentatively, not sure how far to go, not wanting to hurt her - not wanting to hurt her! The irony. She chuckled and finally guided his cock to the place where it would do the most good…

From there, it was like clockwork. This angel was not like other virgin boys she had enjoyed; he had a sense of the rhythm of the universe that was so necessary in matters like this. Not too fast, not too slow, he moved in her carefully, new to this practice, then more energetically as he came closer to personal bliss. And she moved with him, taking every wave of pleasure to fuel the next one and the next, shuddering and clinging when it started to wane. She would drain every drop from him; she would have her due.

He came, grasping her shoulders for one long moment, and she felt it in her.

Abruptly he pulled out and climbed off of her. He looked panicked. “I should not have done that,” he said.

Meg chortled and sat up. “Oh, honey…” she said with pity. “If that’s really your first time, we’ve got a long way to go before stopping.” She vaulted to her feet, pulled up her pants, and went over to where the chain was anchored. “But if you really feel bad about it, I guess I could deal out some punishment.”

Without warning, she yanked the chain tight again. Cass yelped as he was dragged upwards. This time, she let his feet touch the floor, anchoring him at just the right point for keeping his arms occupied but slightly loose. She went to the table behind her and picked up a blindfold and a knife.

Castiel yanked at his anchor. “This is pointless,” he said, or tried to say, matter-of-factly. Meg closed in. “You’re not even asking me questions. Why am I here? What good am I to you? What good am I to… Him?” He glanced towards the door.

“You know, it’s this damned capitalist society,” Meg said. “Everybody thinks they have to have a purpose. Well, what if _life_ is the purpose?” She trailed the point of the knife along his torso, walking around and behind him. “Most humans are doing a pretty crappy job at that, if you ask me.”

“So… what, I’m just here for… fun?”

“Ding ding ding!” And she slashed him across the belly.

He yelled - the cut was only skin-deep but it still hurt. “Stop it,” he told her, squirming to put himself out of her reach. She advanced on him, sticking the point into the cut and twisting a little. He growled, still trying to evade her, until she stepped behind him and held the knife to his throat.

At least that made him freeze.

“This party’s just getting started,” Meg murmured. Bringing the knife to his forehead, she cut across it in a shallow line.

Castiel’s eyes rapidly started filling with blood, and they continued to fill just as fast as he tried to blink it away. He shut them against the flow.

“Aw, look,” she said, stepping forward to survey her handiwork, “I don’t even need to blindfold you now.”

Cass opened his mouth, to his regret; blood dripped in. He swallowed angrily. “Like I said,” he said through gritted teeth, “Unless you’re trying to get some kind of information from me, you’re wasting your time.”

“Oh, Castiel,” she murmured in his ear. “Personal pleasure is never a waste of time.” And she licked the blood from his cheek before starting again with his mouth. She took hold of his cock. He moaned, partly from disorientation and partly from pleasure. These sensations were new and confusing, and he couldn't keep himself straight. His reactions were betraying him. He couldn't think.

“Don't think,” she whispered in his ear, as though reading his thoughts. “Just live.” Her hand began to work in earnest, and his eyes rolled back in his head at her deft touch. As he came, he bit her lip, making her laugh.

“I knew you liked it rough,” she said, pleased.

He shuddered, not from physical pleasure this time but from his own mortification. He should not be so easily corrupted. This could not be.

But it was happening, and with it came a certain kind of freedom. He had never given himself over to lust; it was forbidden. And for millennia, he had obeyed that rule. But this... this was something he had never felt before. His inhibitions were blown to dust. He embraced it with all his might, wanting more... and more...

Awash in sensation, a thought crossed the back of his mind: Was it obedience when the desire to sin was not there in the first place? Had he ever been a _good_ angel? Or just a functioning one?

For time seemingly endless, he spun through a cycle of pleasure, pain, and remorse, taking charge at times but mostly following Meg’s lead through a sea of unimagined sensation. Once he found himself on top of her again, her breasts exposed beneath him as he worked his tongue on her body, drowning himself in the pleasures of the flesh as he moved his fingers in her and thrust into her skilled hand.

He lost his mind that night.

It was no wonder, when his lust had been sated, that he sank into a kind of despair.

“Just think, Castiel,” she whispered as she held him tight, joined with him - as he tried to tell himself for the thousandth time that he didn’t like this feeling, that any moment now he would say _No_ instead of _Yes_ \-  “If we were human, we’d be making a baby right now. A real new life. I wonder which of us it would take after more.” She pulled herself up and settled down again, up, and down again, riding him like a climbing rope as his arms - stretched above him again - screamed from the weight of her. He whimpered. He just wanted release. She was speeding up, breathing fast, and so was he - too fast - almost there, almost there… and she sighed, and shuddered, and bit his neck - and he came with a start, moaning again. She chuckled into his ear and climbed off, teasing the tip of his cock with her thumb and forefinger. He yelped.

“Was it good for you?” she asked, eyes lit playfully.

He shuddered. “You’re evil.”

She chuckled. “Only in the best ways.”

But when she took hold of him again, a few minutes later - after taking a brief interlude to score his ribs with a razor - he was unresponsive. Huh.

She smiled though; her corruption of an angel had been a resounding success. So what if he was out of stamina? She counted it a win.

“Guess I’ve worn out my welcome,” she breathed. His eyes met hers dully. “That’s okay, hun,” she said. “I’ll see y’again soon.”

When she finally left, the door slammed shut on his ashen face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dee and Cass have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this chapter awhile. Not sure why I didn't post it sooner, except that I haven't gotten much farther and I wanted to reserve the possibility of changing things. In any case, I think I know where I'm going, so here it is.

Castiel wanted to lift his eyes to the heavens - wanted to pray - but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

And so he hung there, aching, waiting, and raw. He was still in his clothes, and Meg had thankfully zipped up his pants before leaving, but after everything he had been through in the past few hours, he felt… exposed. Before, he hadn’t been sure which he preferred - the monotony of the room, or the unfortunate events that would occur when someone else was in it. Now he knew.

So when the door opened hours later, this time revealing Lucifer and another woman, Castiel was spent - emotionally as well as physically.

“Castiel,” Lucifer said in greeting, as though meeting an old friend. Then he stopped. “Boy, is that a picture. Strung out and  _ waiting _ … you look like you’ve been worked over hard. I’ll have to give that girl a raise.” He circled Castiel, trailing his fingers over the various cuts and bruises adorning the ex-angel’s body and provoking a wince. “How you doin’, bud? Hangin’ in there?”

Even Dee had to roll her eyes at that.

The angel said nothing, of course, and did nothing except blink angrily at the two of them.

“Alright. Castiel, meet Dee - handmaiden of the pagans, servant of gods, and a  _ kitten _ in the sheets -” Dee blushed - “also an expert masseuse, as well as aspiring psychotherapist. Dee, meet Castiel, butt-boy of a couple of famous hunters,  _ ex _ -angel, and proverbial stick up everyone’s ass. Enjoy each other’s company. I’ve got a world to conquer.” And he disappeared.

Castiel’s eyes latched onto the woman before him, wondering what new shame was in store for him.

But the look on her face was anything but malevolent… There was sorrow there.

When she stepped forward next to him, he flinched. The last thing he expected her to do was to reach for his shackles.

“Damn,” she said. She couldn’t quite get to them.

Casting around for a chair, she discovered that the chain holding him up was threaded through a loop on the ceiling and tied off several feet away on the wall. Without wasting time, she had him down. He curled up on the floor, arms stretched awkwardly in front of him as his muscles and joints adjusted to the shock of changing position after so long.

Dee was by his side then, and as he started to react to her nearness, she placed two hands on his left shoulder and said a few words. Coolness spread throughout the joint; the pain lessened. She moved to his right side and did the same thing. Curious, he looked up at her face, wondering. What was she?

“Are you a witch?” he said hoarsely.

She regarded him with some derision. “They are not the only ones with power.”

“But you’re not an angel. Or a demon.” Of this he was sure. What had Lucifer said?

She looked at him curiously. “Have you never encountered a servant of the gods before?”

He blinked, still curled up on the ground. “And just what is that?”

She looked sad. “I didn’t realize we were such a well-kept secret.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said abruptly. “Whatever you are, you can help me get out of here.” He came to one knee, trying to stand. But instead of rising to his feet, he fell back on the ground with a groan. He couldn’t. His body was still in shock.

“Mmm… no. No, I can’t.” Dee regarded the broken angel, thinking of his limitations (and her own). “Even if you had the strength, I certainly don’t have the power. There are enough guards outside to stop us, easily.” She sat down on the ground next to him, folding her legs crosswise. “And unlike you, I  _ choose _ to be here. So I’m not leaving. Not yet.”

Castiel brought his eyes up to her face. “What is your role here?” he asked suspiciously. “Who are you to Lucifer?”

She avoided his gaze. “First, let’s get you cleaned up. An infection at this point would be rather unfortunate.”

Castiel sat on the ground in a stupor as she left the room. His brain was having trouble working. It wasn’t something he was used to - even as an angel, physical pain had not affected his mental functioning. He wondered if this phenomenon was to blame for humanity’s general stupidity.

Which begged the question - what was he now? He had seemingly lost his grace. He did not know if it would return. Did that make him human?

And if so… what would he do?

The door opened with a creak and a clatter, and Dee reappeared. She held a first-aid kit, a bottle of water, and a box of protein bars. She sunk to the ground next to him and started to doctor his wounds.

He grabbed the water, downed it in one long series of gulps, and started tearing through the protein bars. “Ow,” he said, chewing. She was cleaning his wounds with alcohol - not an easy job, considering how weak and shaky he was.

“You’ve got to relax.” Her tone brooked no argument. “Just breathe. Finish that bite, put the food down, and breathe.”

He shot her a look, but did as he was told.

Several minutes later, she had cleaned and bandaged every wound she could find - and there were many of them, for Meg had been thorough - and was putting away the remaining supplies when he broke the silence.

“So,” he said, “just what are you doing here?” His eyes remained closed, his breaths long and even. His body needed sleep. This was as close as he could get right now. And his injuries… they didn’t feel better. They didn’t knit together the way they were supposed to. It was bewildering for the ex-angel; was this what humans felt?

Castiel was only beginning to realize what heavy weights they had to bear. No wonder the Winchesters were so whiny.

Meanwhile, Dee was pondering his question. “Well… at the moment, I appear to be keeping Lucifer entertained. He’s curious about humanity, and -”

“What?” Castiel opened his eyes. “That… that doesn’t make any sense. He  _ loathes _ humanity. That was the whole point of his rebellion.” He stared at her, baffled. “I seriously doubt Lucifer would change his mind, especially after thousands of years in the Cage.”

“How well do you really know him though?” she pressed.

Castiel gave her a look. “When you’ve spent untold aeons together in the presence of our Holy Father, you get to know someone well enough.” He unfolded his legs and stretched, hesitant with his abused muscles. “Though I admit, I know him more as you might know a… friend of a friend, or a cousin. He was my brother, yes, but so were thousands more. Are.” He winced. Already, he was speaking of his family as if his connection to them was a thing of the past. Pushing aside that bit of momentary dismay, he climbed to his feet.

“What are you doing?” asked Dee.

“I need to see if there are any weaknesses in this room that I can use. It may not be possible now, but if there is an opportunity for escape, I do not want it to pass unexploited.” He staggered over to the wall and began feeling the stones there for cracks and looseness.

She watched him. He had better not pull any of her stitches. “It’s not escapable,” she said matter-of-factly. “Not unless you have a bulldozer or something. This floor is set entirely into the ground, and the only exit from this room is the door. You should save your energy.”

He leaned against the wall, looking pained. “Perhaps you are right.” His eyes found her again. “Tell me more about Lucifer’s plans.”

Dee’s mouth quirked up. This guy didn’t ever give up, did he? “As far as I know, they are what they have always been. He’s going to destroy humanity.” She looked uncomfortable. “He keeps teasing me about it.”

“And you haven’t tried to stop him?”

She was the one who gave him a look this time. “Like I said: I don’t even have the power to deal with the guards outside, much less the Prince of Darkness. Don’t put this on me.”

Castiel was exasperated. “So what is your function then, if you have no chance of stopping him?”

“What’s yours?” she shot back.

That was a good question, given the circumstances. “Well, I may not have much chance of stopping him, but I’m still going to try,” he grumbled. “Anything less would be cowardice.”

“Have fun with that,” Dee said quietly. “I’m just trying to survive.” She fiddled with her hands, then decided to snag a protein bar for herself. It was about time for her to eat, and she was starting to get tired of this conversation.

Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry. My manners appear to have left me. Let me start again.” Crawling to where she was seated, he offered her a hand. “My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord, and I’m trying to prevent the apocalypse. Though I seem to be failing spectacularly at the moment. What’s your name?”

His hand was extended, but it was his eyes that drew her. They were the most remarkable blue. And now that she looked, really looked, there was something… caring, and gentle, about them. They were worn but somehow still so young… and definitely naive.

They were beautiful eyes. You wanted to trust the person with those eyes.

Dee hesitated. Why not. She offered her hand, and they shook. “I’m Dee. I used to be someone who lived her life in service to the pagan gods. Now… I’m not sure what I am.”

Castiel frowned. “How did Lucifer get ahold of you?”

She looked down, thinking of that horrible night. “There was… a meeting. My master was in attendance, as were several other gods. They were discussing what to do about the coming apocalypse.” She laughed bitterly. To think that she could succeed where beings of such power had failed. It was ludicrous. Why wouldn’t the idea go away? “My master fell. All of them fell. Afterwards, I came to find him. In his culture it is right to wash the body before burial… And I was just trying to…” She fell silent. “Then  _ he _ came.”

“Lucifer,” Castiel said. It wasn’t a question. He knew the kind of fear that presence could evoke.

Remembering that night, Dee struggled to keep her face blank, as she had been taught. Maybe it was that this was the first time in days she had felt  _ safe _ … the first time she was with another person, another prisoner like her, instead of alone or with Him… Whatever the reason, those memories were threatening to overwhelm her right now.  _ Damn it _ , she thought. She had meditated, but she hadn’t  _ processed _ …

She had not cried in eight years, she would not cry now.

“How did you get here?” she asked. Best to change the subject. Her eyes felt hot.

“I’m not sure,” said Castiel. “The last thing I remember, I was in Van Nuys. Then I woke up here.” He looked down, and touched the scar on his chest. “I had to perform a spell, and one of the side effects was banishment. It was... painful. I assume one of Lucifer’s minions found me. Which, honestly, is the worst kind of luck. If I believed in luck.”

Dee was wondering something. “He called you an ex-angel. Is that true?”

Cass grimaced. “I suppose that depends on what you mean. It is true that I am no longer one with the host of Heaven. It… pains me to no end, but my brothers have chosen a different path. One that involves coercion and torture,” he said bitterly. “And in terms of my power... well I seem to have lost my Grace.” He said this as though it was the worst thing in the world.

“What is that?”

Uncomfortable, Cass looked at his hands. “It is my connection to the Most High. It gives me my abilities, it allows me to heal quickly, and travel quickly, and work miracles… It is what makes me who I am.” His voice quieted. “I don’t know who I am without it.”

Dee touched his knee. “You’re still you,” she said. He looked up at her. “Whoever that is,” she said ruefully. “You know, something we humans have to figure out as we go through life is who  _ we _ are. A lot of us reach a point where we struggle with that question, and if we’re lucky, we realize that it’s not about money, or family, or social status, or even power or ability… it’s about our choices. What we choose to do with what we have. How we choose to treat each other.”

He looked unhappy. “This is something every human deals with?”

Dee smiled. “The ones who are aware enough to ask those questions, yes.”

Cass grunted. “I knew being a human came with certain disadvantages, but I must admit: I have only recently begun to understand exactly how disabling it can be. It is not a pleasant thought.”

“You know, you might not be here forever. You might get your Grace back. But you can use this time to learn as much as you can.” She looked at him hopefully. “For when you go back.”

“I don’t think there is any  _ going back _ for me. Not at the moment. Heaven is… too hostile right now.”

Dee nodded. “Maybe you’re in the right place then.” She reached for another protein bar. “I mean, it’s very possible that we’re all about to be destroyed, but at least you’ve got company.”

The door slammed open, bringing both of them to their feet.

Lucifer was standing a few steps inside the room, looking livid.

“Caaaaaaassie…” He clenched his fist, and Castiel was hanging from the ceiling again. “You’ve got some ‘splaining to do.”


End file.
